The Stones Unturned
by Metal-Potato-Alex
Summary: You would be forgiven for thinking all they do is sit beside each other and hold hands, but there is so much more beneath the surface. Their story is not what you see when you try to find it, but what you see when you don't. Brittana. Post-Outing.


**Glee and all related characters and places are owned by Fox - I just make them dance for my own amusement.**

**Well, here's a thing. My first ever Glee fic. This started life as a single scene I had in my head after a conversation with my best friend - incidentally, said friend is the reason I got into the show in the first place - and it's developed into something much larger in scope. In fact, the scene I first wrote for it won't be appearing until the next chapter.**

**Thing is, after the ridiculous lack of any Brittana interaction since Santana came out - anyone see the dialogue count graph on Tumblr? I made that - we're left to fill in the blanks ourselves. So that's what this fic will do. Each chapter will focus on a seperate episode, and bridge the gap from that one to the next one. The Christmas break gives me the perfect chance to catch up with Season 3 so far. I may also do the odd chapter for their weekends if I get a fun idea I want to slip in.  
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**~xxx~**

It was an awful feeling; walking towards Brittany like this. She didn't even know Santana was there. The blonde was happily chatting to Mercedes about something, smiling widely and waving her arms to exaggerate whatever amusing story she was recounting. It was perhaps a sign of her disinterest, that Mercedes was the first to notice they had company. She and Brittany were sat opposite the wall of mirrors backstage, all dressed up and ready to go. God, Brittany looked fantastic in that dress, and for a moment Santana wondered whether she could just pretend everything was okay; pretend her world wasn't crashing down around her. But no, things had been set in motion that she had no hope of stopping, and Brittany needed to know. Clearly sensing something was wrong, Mercedes got to her feet and stepped over to her, finally alerting Brittany to Santana's presence.

"Are you okay?" Mercedes asked, leaning a little closer in a vain attempt to read the Latina's expression.

"I'm fine," she managed, rather surprised when her own voice wasn't recognisable. The lack of any smart-mouthed comment seemed to confirm Mercedes' fears, and she had already opened her mouth to reply when Santana cut her off. "I need to talk to Brittany. In private."

"Are you sure you're-"

"I said I'm fine." At this, Mercedes seemed to take the hint, and nodded.

"Okay then," she said rather pointedly, stepping back. "But make it quick; we're on in a few and you know Shelby doesn't like to be kept waiting." Santana turned to watch her go, before looking back and finding herself face to face with Brittany. The blonde had remained silent, but she clearly knew something had her girlfriend rattled. Placing her bag on a nearby table, the brunette took a shaky breath, and forced herself to look Brittany in the eye.

"You're not fine, are you?" the taller girl asked, her voice uncharacteristically sombre. It was like she already knew. Not that that would be much of a surprise; it was eerie how the two of them could almost sense how the other was feeling, even when they were apart. Wasn't that supposed to be a sibling thing?

"No," Santana replied simply. "No I'm not. Brittany…" She paused, and took another ragged breath.

"Where did you get changed?" the blonde asked curiously, eying the other girl's black dress. Santana had to bite back a smile; typical Brittany being distracted by pretty clothes.

"I…uh…in the toilets," she replied. She didn't dare admit that she had been there bawling her eyes out since she had left Sue's office. Instead, she decided to get this over with. "Everyone _knows_, Brittany." She bit her lip, and averted her eyes. "Or at least…they will, really soon."

"Did someone tell on you?" the blonde asked, tilting her head to the side in that way Santana would have normally found adorable. "Because I didn't say-"

"It was Finn," she interrupted her. "Or at least…sort of. He was giving me crap in the corridor and someone heard him…" She paused again, before looking up through moist eyes and putting on a mock smile. "Turns out…I'm gonna be on TV!"

"That's great!" Brittany said, suddenly brightening up. "I've been sending all the local networks letters about getting Fondue For Two out there and-"

"No. No, not like that," Santana cut in again, and for a moment she just wanted to laugh at Brittany being Brittany, but quickly her smile vanished. "Britt…they're going to tell everyone I'm a lesbian. On state-wide TV."

"…why would they do that?" the blonde asked, frowning as her smile faded. She seemed utterly confused now.

"I dunno, some idiot's idea of a smear against Coach Sylvester," the shorter girl said, shaking her head. "Something about family values."

"Well…" Brittany began, looking into the distance for a moment; something of a habit when she was thinking things through. "Maybe that's a good thing? You said you didn't know how to tell people, and now you don't have to?"

"But I'm _not ready_," the Latina said, her voice becoming strained again as she began to ramble. "I haven't told _anyone_ yet. Not properly. I mean, some people have probably guessed, but most of them…" She bit back a sob, and covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm so scared, Brittany…"

Without words, the blonde wrapped her arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. Santana wasn't sure that the other girl realised the full gravity of the situation, or even the implications for her as the brunette's girlfriend, but she obviously knew enough; Santana was hurting, and she needed her there. After a few moments, she returned the hug, burying her face in the crook of Brittany's neck. At that moment, all she wanted to do was run away and be with her girlfriend; somewhere where no one knew them, and no one could judge them. She knew that to Brittany, this would never be as big a deal – no one even questioned the blonde's sexuality, and she had no problems with people knowing; but all the same, she knew just how different it was for Santana.

"You don't have to be afraid…" Brittany whispered, her voice once again lacking it's bubbly tone. "I'm always going to be here for you, Santana. You don't need to do anything alone…"

"I know," the brunette murmured. She didn't dare pull away, even if it meant she was essentially talking into the other girl's shoulder. "But-"

"No buts," Brittany interrupted, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I love you, Santana. And I don't care who knows or how many people know." She pulled her head back slightly, and the shorter girl finally looked up at her, revealing her tear-stained eyes. The blonde was smiling. "I don't care if everyone in the whole world knows," she went on. "Because every person who knows is another one who knows that I'm yours. And that I'll never let them hurt you."

Santana gave a loud sniff, and stood a little straighter. "You always know what to say to me," she murmured, blinking the remaining tears from her eyes.

"Well…" Brittany began, biting her bottom lip momentarily; clearly she was a little embarrassed. "I know you better than anyone else, right?"

"…yeah," the brunette replied with a nod, forcing a smile.

They shared another brief hug, before they heard Shelby's voice calling them from beyond the door. They exchanged nervous glances for a moment; it was clear both of them wanted nothing more than to take each other's hands at this point, but that was probably not for the best. Instead, they dutifully left the room. Brittany looked a little nervous, but Santana's stomach felt like a stormy sea. This was not going to be an enjoyable performance.

**~xxx~**

With the force of a small battering ram, Santana burst through the double doors into the corridor. She didn't even look back as she stalked away from the auditorium, her heels clicking angrily against the highly polished floor. Naturally, the school was deserted; the only way to give both groups enough time to perform was to hold it after last period. This was probably for the best, as the Latina felt ready to murder anyone and everyone that got in her way. She made a bee-line for her locker, unlocking it entirely from muscle memory; she was barely capable of coherent thought at this point. But when faced with the books she had left in it, she realised with rising anger that her bag was still in the auditorium. Unable to stop herself, she slammed a fist into the locker beside her own, before leaning into it, unable to control the tears.

"Santana?"

She looked up, her moist eyes conveying nothing more than a blurry haze. She wiped at them with the back of her hand, and found herself face to face with Brittany. She mentally cursed herself; she was such a wreck that she hadn't even recognised the blonde's voice.

"Britt…" she croaked, hating herself for appearing so weak and vulnerable in front of the taller girl. The blonde gave a pained smile, and held up a hand; hanging from a single finger was Santana's bag.

"I didn't think you'd want to go back, so…" she trailed off. That simple gesture was all it took to send Santana over the edge. She all but threw herself at the other girl, holding onto her as tightly as she could. Brittany stumbled slightly, but quickly caught herself, returning the embrace. Santana tried her hardest to lose herself in the other girl, as she so often did without intending to, but it was proving more difficult than usual. No matter how hard she pressed herself into the blonde, she couldn't rid herself of her anguish; of the memory of all those faces staring at her. The blonde placed her free hand upon the other girl's head, gently stroking her hair. She didn't say a word, or make any indication that she was going to move – she simply gave the other girl something to hold on to. Not for the first time, Santana found herself wondering just what she had done to deserve the rock that was Brittany.

"Santana?" That definitely wasn't Brittany's voice. They both looked up, and saw Mr Schuester standing some distance away; thankfully alone. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't look angry. Before Santana could even contemplate responding, Brittany did it for her.

"I'm taking Santana home," she said. Again, her tone was more serious than usual. Santana hated that she had heard it so much today.

"Okay…" Mr Schue replied. The Latina got the impression he wanted to say more, but was holding it back. She would have loved to think it was because he knew she'd shoot him down with a world-class comeback, but it was probably because she looked such a mess.

Her head still buried in Brittany's chest, she heard her locker close, followed by the sound of her bag shuffling; the blonde must have hoisted it over her shoulder along with her own. As Brittany began to lead her away, Santana gave her girlfriend an appreciative squeeze. By the time they reached the exit, the brunette was now looking where she was going, but still had her arms firmly locked around Brittany's waist. She had given up berating herself internally for being so clingy; she knew the blonde wouldn't allow her to let go even if she tried. The cold air hitting Santana as they stepped through the doors was akin to a slushie facial; freezing and immediate. She instantly regretted not changing out of her dress, and if anything held onto her girlfriend even tighter. As they crossed the parking lot, a tiny smile found it's way onto Santana's face.

"Britt…" she began, and the blonde stopped, looking down at her inquisitively. The Latina had to stop herself from sobbing at the concern shining in the taller girl's eyes – Brittany thought she was breaking down again. Instead, she forced her smile to widen. "You said you were gonna take me home…"

"I am," Brittany stated defiantly, but Santana continued to smile through her tears.

"I drove you in this morning, remember?" she pointed out, nodding in the direction of her car. The taller girl looked up for a moment, then back to the girl around her waist.

"…oh yeah."

They must have looked a sight; both still in their black dresses and heels, Brittany's make-up and hair still perfect while Santana's was smeared over her face, embracing in the middle of a windy parking lot. With that thought in mind, Santana finally pulled away from the other girl, and rather swiftly made her way to her car. Brittany followed, watching sadly as her girlfriend's eyes flitted this way and that, as if expecting people to be watching them from afar. Once seated, Santana remained motionless for a moment, simply staring at the steering wheel. Brittany watched her in silence, unsure of how to react. Santana couldn't blame her; she barely knew how she was feeling herself. All she wanted was to get somewhere private; somewhere she could let all these feelings out, away from anyone that might see.

**~xxx~**

The drive to Brittany's was a quiet affair. Santana could feel the blonde's eyes on her during the entire journey, and half-expected her girlfriend to show some sort of affection – Brittany had a habit of placing a hand on the Latina's thigh during their drives to school. But as she had been earlier, the taller girl was quiet and stony faced. Santana had a feeling she knew why; Brittany didn't know exactly what was going through the brunette's mind, and didn't want to upset her further. It was no secret that Brittany had always been confused when it came to Santana's sexuality; the blonde argued that it made no sense for her to be so afraid of it, yet embrace it so often when they were alone together.

As they pulled up outside the Pierce household, there was another uncomfortable silence, before Santana finally spoke.

"Here we are then," she said stiffly, still looking ahead through the windshield.

"You don't want me to come to yours?" Brittany asked, her concern barely hidden. Santana bowed her head, looking at her hands for a moment.

"I…" she began, drawing in a shaky breath.

"I'm not leaving you alone," the blonde said, her voice somewhat firmer now. "If you were still being angry scary Santana, then I know you'd be alright, but…" Finally, she did as predicted; the hand on Santana's leg filed her with an unexpected warmth, and she finally looked up into those bright blue eyes. "When you're quiet like this…"

"I don't want you to leave me alone," Santana blurted out, swallowing uncomfortably. "Britt, I…"

"You don't need to say anything else," the taller girl said. "Do you want me to come to yours or-"

"No," the brunette said quickly. "No, I'll…I'll stay at yours. I can't face my parents right now…"

"But they don't know yet, right?" Brittany pointed out, and Santana shook her head.

"No, but…" She let out a noise that somehow managed to be both a sigh and a hollow laugh. "…look at me, Brittany. We both know I'm about five minutes away from a complete meltdown and the last thing I need is my parents on my back about it."

"Okay," the blonde replied simply, nodding in understanding. "I'll just tell my parents you have flu or something – I think Lord Tubbington's coming down with it too."

"I thought cats had their own type of flu," Santana said. It felt so good to talk about something else, if but for a moment; it was as though her throat didn't feel drier than a desert.

"Lord Tubbington says that's only what the government wants you to think," Brittany replied matter-of-factly, before opening her door. "Come on. I'll get you all warm and toasty and put on one of those movies you hate so you can distract yourself by pointing out how bad it is every five seconds."

"I'd like that," Santana replied after a moment, giving her first smile that wasn't entirely forced.

**~xxx~**

Only minutes later, Santana found herself sat at the foot of Brittany's bed. The blonde was downstairs quickly talking to her parents; probably just telling them Santana would be staying the night and to lay an extra place at dinner for her. The Latina took advantage of her time alone to text her parents – she didn't think she could stomach talking to them directly. She simply told them she and Brittany had an assignment to work on together, knowing they wouldn't question it. But just as she was about to slip her phone back into her bag, she noticed something; she had an unread message. For a brief moment, panic took hold of her – what if it had already spread? What if it was from someone she didn't know and they were taunting her? She gingerly tapped the screen, and almost dropped the phone in surprise when she saw the name – 'Coach Sylvester.'

'_Ad won't run for another week. Doesn't matter if it's yours truly, Butt-Chin or Baboon-Heart – you need to talk to someone about this. I don't want you to leave your braindead sapphic sister's sight this weekend.'_

That had almost sounded…sincere? She shook her head and put the phone away; the last thing she wanted to do was talk about this. Instead she decided to distract herself by trying to remember just when she had programmed Sue Sylvester's number into her phone. Had it been one of their cheerleading competitions? She shrugged; Cheerios getting lost under Sue's care didn't seem as though it would bother the fire-breathing coach, but it didn't matter anyway – she most certainly wasn't talking to that woman about it. Still, the news about the ad gave her some comfort; she had a week. She was of two minds about it – a single week to hide before her world imploded, or a whole week to come out on her own terms. Brittany would most definitely prefer the latter, but with her emotions bubbling ever closer to boiling point, Santana refused to even consider it.

**~xxx~**

Contrary to Santana's assumption that Brittany didn't know how she was feeling, the blonde dancer was in fact quite familiar with the three-act procession of Santana's emotions in these situations; though something told her this was by far the worst she was ever likely to see. First came the initial anger – Finn's cheek and that poor locker could testify to that, then there was the withdrawal – she would become quiet, reserved, and seemingly try to act as though everything was normal, and then inevitably, the floodgates would open, and she would finally let her pain out. Brittany had often wondered why the Latina had developed such a drawn-out coping mechanism, and had finally decided that the angry outbursts were to scare people away, the quiet stage was to wait for them to leave, and then finally – once alone with Brittany – she poured her heart out. They had been here before so many times over the years; when some kids had trashed her first bicycle, when her parents hadn't let her have a toy because it was 'meant for boys', the first time she had been dumped by a guy, and most recently over the Summer vacation – when after an amazing day out with Brittany, Santana had nearly come out to her parents, only to back off at the last minute and spiral into a ball of self-loathing. Every time, Brittany had been there for her to pick up the pieces, and this time was no exception.

But this time, it felt different. There was something else in Santana's red and puffy eyes: fear. She jumped as the blonde reappeared in her room, and made a poor effort of hiding it. As it had been in the parking lot, it was as though she was expecting people to jump out of nowhere and attack her. Brittany closed the door behind her, and gave a small smile, moving over to sit beside the other girl.

"That could have gone better," Santana spoke after a minute or so of silence. The blonde next to her nodded slowly.

"What happened?" she asked quietly. Santana just gave her a look.

"I told you," she said irritably. Brittany hated it when the Latina spoke to her like that, but it was rarely without good reason.

"You said some things I didn't really understand," the blonde said. "I don't-"

"What is there for you to understand?" Santana snapped, getting to her feet and looking down at the taller girl with an incredulous expression. "How can you not understand what I told you?" Brittany remained silent, her eyes downcast. The brunette threw her hands up and made for the door. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come."

"_Santana Lopez_." The ice in Brittany's voice quite literally froze Santana in place; she had never heard her girlfriend speak like that. "You aren't leaving this room until you tell me exactly what happened."

Gingerly, the shorter girl turned around, taking in the sight before her. Brittany's posture seemed relaxed, but her bright eyes were blazing with cold fury. She hated seeing Brittany angry, and being the focus of it was even worse. Within moments she felt her own aggression dissipate entirely, and was left standing there looking rather meek. "Why are you so angry with me…?" Her voice came out as a pathetic whimper, and suddenly she felt just as she had done in the corridor with Finn; like a child being told how disappointed everyone was in them.

"I'm not angry with you," Brittany replied, standing up and moving towards the other girl. She didn't smile, but instead placed her hands over the Latina's upper arms, stroking up and down gently. "But you need to talk to someone about this. And…" She looked away for a moment, hiding the slight tinge forming across her cheeks. "…and I wanna be the person you talk to."

"Britt…" Santana breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the taller girl's. "Okay…"

The blonde finally cracked a small smile, and genty led Santana back to the bed. As they sat, she placed her palm flat against the Latina's back, hoping the contact would encourage her, without making her feel restricted; the last thing she needed was Santana doing a runner. The brunette took a few deep breaths; Brittany had never seen her looking so lost or unsure of herself, and she had to resist the growing urge to just forget about talking and pull her girlfriend into an embrace. Instead, she resisted, and waiting for Santana to continue.

"Well…" she began shakily. "Like I said, it was Finn. I…I might have said some stuff to him in the corridor that made him mad. And then he just turns around and…" She sniffed, forcing down the tears trying to make a reappearance. "…he said I should come out of the closet. Right there in the corridor, in front of all those people. He didn't even whisper it…" Brittany remained silent, giving Santana all the time she needed. "…and then….and then he said…" Finally, she could hold her emotions back no longer, and she let out a sob, tears now running freely down her face.

"What did he say?" Brittany asked, keeping her voice carefully controlled. Her heart screamed at her to comfort the shaking girl, but she knew they had to get through this. At least she hoped that was the case; if Santana thought she didn't care, she would never forgive herself.

"He said…" Another sob. "…he said that I was afraid you might not love me back…" She whipped her head up, looking at the blonde with desperate eyes. "…and I am, Britt. I am so afraid…" She bit her lip, and swallowed uncomfortably. "I made you wait so long…because I was too caught up with what everyone would think and…and I nearly lost you for good to Artie and…" She hung her head, unable to look at the taller girl any longer. "…I'm so sorry…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Brittany replied. Unable to resist any longer, she slid her arm around the other girl, pulling them closer together. Santana instantly buried her head in the blonde's neck. She began rubbing gentle patterns against the Latina's back. "Santana, you would never have lost me," she said, unable to hide the raw emotion in her own voice now. "Maybe I didn't realise back then, but I never would have been able to get over you. Never." She sighed, and pressed a gentle kiss to the other girl's head. "And maybe I thought I loved Artie for a while. Maybe I didn't, I dunno. But it never would have lasted, and deep down inside I knew I didn't want it to last. All I wanted was you…"

"Really?" The hope in Santana's voice nearly made the dancer's heart break; how long had this been eating away at her? She hadn't mentioned anything of the sort over the Summer.

"Yeah," she replied simply. Giving the dark eyes looking up at her an encouraging smile. "What happened next?"

"Well that was on Wednesday," the brunette continued, a little more strength in her voice now. "Then yesterday, nothing happened. I didn't even really think about it. And when I saw you giving that speech in front of everyone…" She smiled, ignoring the fact that her cheeks were still incredibly tear-stained. "…I was so proud. Proud to call you mine. You were amazing, Brittany…"

"Well…" the taller girl mumbled, looking away bashfully. "I got most of the stuff about tornadoes off the internet. Well, once Lord Tubbington helped me get the computer turned on. And that was only after I promised to stop trying to get him to use nicotine patches…"

"But even so…" Santana continued, her smile widening. "You are so going to win."

"I couldn't do it without my First Lady," the blonde replied, and – unable to help herself – leant in for a brief kiss. But as she pulled away, she reminded herself of why they were there. "So…what about today?"

"I…" The shorter girl looked away, her smile fading. "Well, you were with me when Becky called me to Coach Sylvester's office. And then I get there, and Mr Schue is there, and Kurt's dad." She let out a shuddering breath, and Brittany could almost feel that more tears were on the way. "…I think a part of me knew what it was about…before they even showed me…I mean, why would Kurt's dad be there without Kurt? And Mr Schue talking about counselling and…" This time, Brittany didn't even miss a beat in wiping away the fresh moisture from her girlfriend's eyes. "…some guy who's running against them in that stupid election has a niece at McKinley. She heard Finn in the corridor on Wednesday and…" She paused, fighting her tears and looking away. "…she told him and now he's using it as a smear against Coach Sylvester. Apparently having a lesbian as Head Cheerleader doesn't promote family values… There was even a picture of me…" She looked back at Brittany, her cheeks streaked with tears and her lips trembling. "And now everyone is gonna know about me…the ad runs in a week, and everyone in the entire state is going to know I'm a lesbian…"

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Brittany offered, cocking her head to the side to better address Santana's downturned face. "Couldn't you, like…unpeel it or something?"

"Appeal," Santana corrected. "And no, I don't think so. I mean…look at me; I'm some High School cheerleader from Lima Heights. He's some bigshot running for congress. I wouldn't stand a chance."

"But…you're like, super-awesome at arguing and stuff," the blonde pointed out, and Santana had to hide her relief at seeing Brittany's speech returning to it's normal pattern.

"I don't think it's gonna happen, Britt," she said, letting out a tired sigh. "I've got a week to tell everyone, or let some douchebag I've never met do it for me."

"We'll find a way," Brittany replied softly, once again stroking patterns across the other girl's back. Santana leant into her and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Mmmmm you always know what to say…" she murmured. Her face was still shining with tears, but they had stopped falling and she seemed a little calmer now. "Thank you, Britt."

"Well if I'm your girlfriend, I have to help you, right?" the blonde replied, nodding more to herself than Santana. "It's the law, I think."

"Probably," the brunette said, continuing to talk into the other girl's neck. And then, after a brief pause, Brittany felt a feather-light kiss against her throat. She let out an appreciative murmur and leant into the contact.

"Hmmm you still remember my preferred method of payment…" the taller girl giggled, and the Latina nodded.

"Marlboros for Tubbington, lady kisses for you," she recited with a nod to herself. "Oh, I remember."

"Good," Brittany hummed, closing her eyes as the brunette continued to pepper her neck with kisses.

"You really do look gorgeous in that dress," Santana said, all traces of sadness gone from her voice now. "I could stare at your legs forever…"

"But if you did that then you'd never be able to stare at anything else," Brittany pointed out with a chuckle. "And I know my legs are third on your list...wait, no...fourth? Fifth?"

"Sixth," the shorter girl clarified with a smirk and another kiss. "But given how many things I love about you, that's still pretty high."

Very slowly, Santana leant a little further into the other girl, and eventually Brittany found herself losing balance, falling back onto her bed. Her legs were still hanging over the foot of it, but now Santana was atop her. She resumed her actions against the blonde's neck, only this time with a little more vigour. Brittany wondered just what her girlfriend's game was; was she really intending do take this further? She got her answer when she felt a hand delicately brushing against her leg as it began to pull the hem of her dress up.

"Wait…" the blonde murmured, realising just how lost she was already becoming in the Latina's touch.

"Hmm?" The shorter girl looked up for a moment, and in that moment, Brittany saw something in her eyes. Something that helped her find her voice.

"Santana, _stop_," the dancer's voice was firmer this time. The brunette pulled her head back, a frown knitting her brow.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with a slight hint of irritation.

"I can't do this with you right now," the blonde replied. She knew Santana would take it the wrong way, and was already working on her response to the shorter girl's inevitable anger.

"Excuse me?" the Latina said, pulling an almost disgusted face. "What's your problem?"

"Santana, I know exactly what you're doing," Brittany replied, her tone becoming serious again. "I know you're not okay yet. I know you haven't let everything out. And I know the only reason you want to have sex with me right now is to stop me asking you about it. And anyway, my parents and sister are right downstairs."

"That never stopped us before…" the brunette murmured, but it was clear she knew she was beaten. With a small sigh, she rolled off of the taller girl, facing away from her and half-curling into a foetal position.

"Honey, I know, but-"

"You don't want me, do you?" Brittany was stunned by Santana's words. She sat there, her mouth hanging slightly open as though she had just been slapped. The Latina let out a restrained sob and curled further into herself. "He was right…"

"Oh my god..." the blonde breathed, watching in horror as the other girl began to shake. Working on autopilot, she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around Santana from behind, gently spooning the distraught girl. She made no protest, but shifted slightly. "Santana?"

There was no response, other than a small whimper as the Latina tried her hardest to reign in her tears. Brittany tightened her hold, and rested her head against the back of the other girl's.

"Santana, listen to me," she said, her voice firm. "You know just how much I want you, so don't even try to tell yourself I don't." She felt the brunette swallow. "But I'm not gonna let you bottle yourself up like this because of what's happened." She lowered her voice slightly, and moved her mouth a little closer to the other girl's ear. "Do you remember when we were younger, all pigtails and Barbies and stuff? And I had that cat…"

"…Mr Woof," Santana murmured. The dancer smiled and nodded. "Stupid name for a cat…"

"And do you remember the day he died?" Brittany went on, ignoring the comment. "And all I wanted to do was hide up here and never come out? Do you remember what you told me?"

"Something about getting over it, I dunno," the brunette mumbled, shaking again. "Britt-"

"But do you remember exactly what you told me?" the taller girl continued. "I do. I remember everything you've ever said to me, Santana." There was silence, and she got the distinct impression that statement had had a bit of an impact. "You told me that it was going to happen eventually, and that I'd always known that. I always knew he'd go to cat heaven one day, I just didn't know how or when…"

"…and the only reason to live is to find out how and why the things you know will happen, happen," Santana finished for her. "God, I sounded like a freaking philosopher when I was a kid…"

"A freaking philosopher who punched a boy in the face for laughing at my hat when we were five…" Brittany reminded her. "And you told everyone you liked it, even when they all thought it looked like a dead turtle…" She squeezed the other girl again. "You were so protective of me…"

"I would have beaten the crap out of all of them for laughing at you," the Latina muttered defiantly. "Stupid little freaks couldn't mind their own business…"

"You told them all that if they didn't like it, it was just because they were jealous," the blonde went on. "And you'd proudly say you did…"

"Oh Brittany…" Something in Santana's voice told the taller girl that her point had been made. She tried to curl up again, but this time into the warm body pressed against her back. With a little difficulty from her dress, she finally rolled over, and embraced Brittany properly. "I'm just…I'm just so scared of what they'll all say; of what they'll do. You know what guys are like with girls…and that's when they think they're in with a chance…" She sniffed, and once again Brittany took care of her tears. "…I thought guys would just act like guys. You know, pervy comments and stuff, but…it's so much worse. They're _vile_. They talk about_ curing_ people, and knowing what's best for…for people like me…"

"People like _us_, Santana," the blonde corrected her. "I know you think I don't get it; that I don't understand-"

"That's not true!" the Latina protested, looking up through tear-streaked eyes, but Brittany just gave her a soft smile.

"You don't need to worry about my feelings, Santana. At least not about this stuff," she continued, brushing back several strands of the brunette's hair that had long-since escaped her ponytail. "I _do_ get it, okay? I_ understand_. You're a lesbian, I'm bisexual, we're dating – so that makes us girlfriends, and not the kind that braid each other's hair and giggle over boys and stuff. You're afraid of what everyone will say about you behind you back because you have a reputation that's important to you, and you've seen other gay kids bullied and don't want to know how it feels. You don't think you're ready for this, and that you're being forced to act on a decision you didn't make for yourself." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for the next part. "And you're worried about what people will say and do to me, because of you."

She took the silence as an affirmative.

"Santana, you need to know…I _do_ get bullied for it," Brittany said quietly, feeling the girl in her arms instantly tense.

"Why have you never-"

"Because I don't let it bother me," the blonde cut in. "It's as easy as that. You think that just because only I can understand Lord Tubbington that people don't label me too?"

"I just…" Santana mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "You're Brittany. That's all there is to it."

"It's like that because I made it that way," the dancer replied, shrugging as best she could while laying on her side. "People don't label me because I refuse to let them; but I don't do that by threatening them. I just act like myself and eventually they get over it."

"It's like I barely know you…" the Latina said, her voice cracking even more. "Brittany…"

"San, you know me better than anyone in the whole world," the blonde said. "You know me better than I sometimes know myself."

"Then…then why did you never tell me that people pick on you…?"

"I told you – because I don't let it bother me," she repeated. "And if it doesn't bother me, why would I want it to bother you? Lord Tubbington says you need to watch your blood pressure, anyway." Brittany let out a sigh. "And now I've talked about me more than I have about you…"

"I…I think you may have done the trick…" Santana said, and when she looked up again, it was with a small smile on her face. "I just…god, Britt, you really are a genius, you know that?"

"I know," the dancer said, her own smile mirroring the other girl's. "Do…do you wanna sit up?"

"Yeah."

Almost in unison, the pair moved back into a more upright position, sitting beside each other at the foot of the bed; just as they had done earlier.

"That was…" Santana began, wiping at her face with her wrist. "…weird."

"Why was it weird?" Brittany asked, giving a small frown.

"I think you used just about every therapy trick in the book," the Latina replied. "Childhood memories, metaphors, personal experiences…"

"They're not tricks if they worked," the blonde said with a hopeful grin.

"Well, they definitely did that," Santana said, actually managing a small laugh. She let out a long noise of exhaustion and leant her head against the other girl's shoulder.

"So is your personal raincloud gone now?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Santana nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I'm not gonna run into school on Monday in a flannel shirt and an Emma Watson hairdo, but still…" She looked up into the dancer's bright blue eyes, and gave the widest smile she had managed all day. "…I think I can do this."

Yes, it was certainly different this time, Brittany mused; but not because of how much Santana was hurting, as extreme as that was. What separated this moment from every other time she had comforted the Latina was such a simple thing, and yet at the same time, the most complex of things; Brittany was her girlfriend now - and she did not take such a thing lightly. Whatever it took, she would get Santana through this.


End file.
